


Drabble Collection 04

by triste



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mpreg, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 18:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triste/pseuds/triste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That’s your cue to start going tsundere on me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drabble Collection 04

**[AoMido, distracted by eyelashes]**

There are other things Aomine could be doing right now, like looking at porn or playing basketball, or even sleeping, but instead he’s sitting opposite Midorima and attempting to study. It’s all Akashi’s fault, because he doesn’t trust Aomine to actually prepare for exams, but when Aomine complains about it, Midorima points out that he only has himself to blame for never bothering to the learn the things he’s going to be tested on. 

Since Aomine’s preferred method of dealing with exams is to simply tick answer boxes at random, the scores he gets depends on his luck. Sometimes he’ll do okay and find his guesses rewarded with marks of between 30 to 40 out of 100. Other times he’ll do terrible and score anywhere between 0 and 10. But because he’s the ace of the basketball club, he actually has to make some sort of effort. If he doesn’t get decent grades, then he’ll be suspended from club activities, and Akashi will probably kill him, or at least mutilate him horribly. That’s why he’s assigned Midorima as Aomine’s babysitter, to make sure he’s not slacking off. 

It’s funny at first, when Aomine doodles female genetalia in his notebook just to make Midorima blush and sputter, but then it gets boring, because there are only so many times Aomine can needle him before he stops retaliating. 

Glaring at him resentfully from across the table, Aomine notices for the first time, when he looks closer, that Midorima has really long eyelashes. It makes him wonder why he’s never picked up on this before, but now that he’s realised it, he can’t seem to stop staring.

Midorima remains oblivious to his scrutiny, absorbed in the book he’s reading, so Aomine stares at him some more. He’s not sure why, but Midorima’s eyelashes seem to fascinate him for some reason, probably because they’re so unusual. Aomine has only ever seen eyelashes of that length on girls, and even then, it’s only after they’ve done whatever it is that they do with mascara and that weird curling thing Satsuki has that looks more like an instrument of torture than a personal grooming device.

Aomine amuses himself for a couple of minutes, imagining Midorima using one of them on his own eyelashes, because it can’t be natural for them to be that long on their own, right? But then he starts wondering if Midorima was actually born with them like that, and that leads to Aomine trying to figure out what the world record is for eyelash length. He’s tempted to look it up on his cell phone, but Midorima confiscated it at the start of their study session, to stop him from being distracted.

What are eyelashes for, anyway? There has to be a reason why people have them. 

The more Aomine thinks about it, the more it makes his head spin, and the more his head spins, the more random his thoughts become. Is this what smart people feel like every day? Has he just turned into a philosophiser? How is he supposed to know what’s real and what isn’t?

Midorima chooses that moment to check on Aomine’s progress, and Aomine must be making some sort of strange expression, because he asks, cautiously, “Are you alright?”

“No,” Aomine says, pained. “I’m having an existential crisis.”

“Do you even understand what that means?”

“I’m not sure I understand anything anymore.”

Midorima sounds concerned. “Maybe we should take a break.”

Aomine’s brain hurts, and it’s all Midorima’s fault. He needs something to turn him back to normal, like a dirty magazine or Satsuki’s nagging voice, but there’s only Midorima and his ridiculous eyelashes. Maybe it’s his glasses that are doing it, Aomine thinks. Yeah, that has to be it. They’re probably making them look longer than they actually are. So, to test his theory, he reaches across the table and removes them from Midorima’s face, ignoring his sputtered protests, but Midorima’s eyelashes are just as long without his glasses as they are with them, and up close like this, Aomine also can’t help noticing what a vivid shade of green his eyes are. 

He has no idea what compels him to lean forward when Midorima squints, trying to bring his surroundings into focus, but Aomine’s body seems to be moving on its own, as does his tongue, when it darts out and licks the delicate skin of Midorima’s left eyelid. Midorima looks seriously freaked out, and Aomine supposes he can’t blame him, but then he sees the way Midorima goes red, the different expressions that he makes when his face goes from shocked, to embarrassed and then to furious. Because Aomine has spent so much time studying Midorima instead of his textbooks, he manages to pick up on other things, like how there’s the slightest hint of fear on his features, and how he gropes for his glasses with an increasing sense of desperation, showing Aomine how vulnerable he is without them, how defenseless it leaves him.

It’s Aomine’s turn to be freaked out then, when he finds himself thinking that it’s kind of sexy to see Midorima like this, and he almost pokes Midorima’s eyes out, he’s in such a hurry to shove his glasses back onto his face.

The whole situation is incredibly awkward, but Midorima, thank god, says nothing, even though he should be punching Aomine right now, or at the very least yelling at him. 

Suddenly, revising for exams looks a lot more appealing.

 

~~

**[KiKuro, noticing the little things]**

“You never said it, you know,” Kuroko comments. “That you would be the light to my shadow.”

“Of course not,” Kise replies.

For once he’s being serious. He doesn’t joke around about how the two of them are on a date, the way he usually would, when they just happened to bump into each other by coincidence. 

“Why?” Kuroko asks him, getting straight to the point in case Kise decides to dance around the subject, or drop it altogether.

“Because,” says Kise, “when I look at you, I like to think ‘I can see Kurokocchi for who he really is,’ that I can pick up on the little things that everyone else tends to miss.”

He stares straight at Kuroko when he speaks, without a hint of embarrassment or apology, and for some reason, it’s difficult for Kuroko to hold Kise’s gaze when he’s this open and honest.

“Besides,” Kise continues, “you don’t need anyone else to bring out your brilliance. You shine bright all on your own.”

And then he smiles, not teasing or lighthearted, but warm and sincere. 

Kise is the only one who ever says and does these things, telling Kuroko how amazing he is, how much he admires and respects him, not because he expects anything in return, but because he simply wants Kuroko to know how he feels about him. When Kuroko doesn’t offer up a characteristically caustic response, Kise’s smile turns into a grin, and he goes back to pretending he’s less intelligent than he actually is.

“Come on, Kurokocchi. That’s your cue to start going tsundere on me.”

He probably should, but instead Kuroko leans in and touches his lips to Kise’s cheek. He regrets it when Kise flings his arms around his neck and starts nuzzling him so happily, it makes his skin chafe.

“Kise-kun, I’ve had enough.”

But Kise merely squeezes him tighter, and shakes his head. “Five more minutes.”

Kuroko supposes it wouldn’t hurt to indulge him a little while longer.

 

~~

**[KiKuro, penguin waddle, mpreg]**

Ryouta knows exactly how many years, months and even days it’s been since he and Tetsuya moved in together, but it still makes his heart swell with happiness in his chest every time Tetsuya greets him with a “welcome home” when he gets back from work. Lately, it’s been affecting him more than usual, because there’s just something so irresistibly adorable about seeing a heavily pregnant Tetsuya waddling his way to the front door that gives Ryouta the urge to roll around on the floor in response to the onslaught of sheer cuteness. 

“Please don’t,” says Tetsuya, apparently able to read Ryouta’s mind (or maybe it’s because he’s gone so obviously weak at the knees that he’s in danger of collapsing right where he stands in the entranceway). “You’ll get your clothes dirty.”

Ryouta lets out a noise that sounds like “wslkdfudsml,” which makes Tetsuya roll his eyes in exasperation.

“At least talk in a language I can understand.”

Ryouta is about to tell him that he’s as cute as ever today, but then Tetsuya turns around to head back to the kitchen, and he’s struck stupid again by the sight of Tetsuya doing his penguin impression. Tetsuya looks a bit tired when he glances over his shoulder to see Ryouta’s blissful expression, and Ryouta feels kind of guilty for being so annoying, but he just can’t help himself. He has a great job, a wonderful partner and a child on the way. He doesn’t think it’s possible for life to get any more perfect.

Even Tetsuya’s limited repertoire when it comes to cooking makes Ryouta feel like the happiest man alive, and he totally doesn’t mind having the same meals over and over again, because they’ve been created by the loving hands of his husband and, in Ryouta’s (admittedly biased) opinion, could put a Michelin star chef to shame.

“Are you quite finished yet?” Tetsuya asks over dinner.

“Hold on,” Ryouta replies, “I’m still eating.”

“I meant staring at me with hearts in your eyes.”

Oh, that.

Shoveling the last of his food into his mouth, Ryouta hurriedly clears the table so he can do the dishes, and he nearly lets the sink overflow, distracted, when Tetsuya waddles off into the living room.

Once he’s finished, Ryouta finds Tetsuya on the couch, eyes closed, one hand resting on the swell of his stomach. He hasn’t been sleeping much these days, and he’s finding it more difficult to get comfortable, even when he piles pillows under his back and hips. Although Tetsuya finds it exasperating when Ryouta fawns over him, he also doesn’t like it when Ryouta looks at him with such concern, which is why Ryouta forces himself to smile instead when he sits down by his side.

“You okay?” Ryouta says softly, rubbing Tetsuya’s shoulders.

Tetsuya nods, giving a little moan as Ryouta’s fingers work their magic. Ryouta leans in closer to nuzzle Tetsuya’s cheek, because he really is just the cutest thing ever, but he won’t say it out loud in case Tetsuya’s expression changes from contented to withering, because that would hurt. 

~~

**[AkaKuro, kindergarten days]**

When their task is to write a short essay about their future selves, some of the children look thoughtful or confused, like they don’t even know what they want to be when they’re older.  
Seijuurou, however, has no such concerns.

“When I grow up,” he says, “I intend to become the prime minister of Japan. After that, I will proceed to take over the rest of the world.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he surveys the other students like a miniature emperor. “If you peasants are willing to acknowledge my worth, then I shall permit you to serve me with your lives.”

“Seijuurou-kun,” the teacher scolds, “don’t call your classmates peasants!”

Nodding in acknowledgement, Seijuurou says, “Very well, Sensei. From now on, I’ll refer to them as underlings.”

The other kids don’t seem to know whether he’s joking or being serious. Kazunari just finds the whole thing hilarious. The teacher sighs, gesturing for him to step down and return to his seat.  
Tetsuya is next, and he speaks so quietly when he reads out what he’s written, she has to tell him to stop and raise his voice so everyone can hear him.

Clearing his throat, Tetsuya tries again. “When I grow up, I’m going to become Seijuurou’s bride.”

Seijuurou smiles approvingly. The teacher looks like she’d rather be in charge of a different class. Kazunari laughs so hard he actually wets himself.


End file.
